Aches of Time and Heart
by Brenii
Summary: Emptiness. Emptiness filled with screaming, wailing, longing. And an eternal hollowness. Little did she know, that she was going to given a choice. A new chance at a new start, and a possibility of making everything in the end better. She needed to at least try. [Tomione fic. No time turner. Rated everyone for now, might change for later chapters.]
1. Chapter 1: So Very Pale

**April 29th, 2015**

**Hello everyone. My name is Brenii, and I have not written a single story since late 2009. Just last night, I finally felt the need to write again. And worked on this first chapter from 2 to 4am. xD **

**I do not own anything regarding Harry Potter. Please feel free to leave comments, I feel quite rusty after my haitus.**

**Please enjoy** :D

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_I look...so pale._

It hurt. It hurt so much. And then, abruptly, the pain was over. It was gone.

_Have I always been that pale? _

It was as if a vase filled with bright flowers and crystal clear water, had suddenly fallen. The flowers askew. The water dripped until there was no more. The vase itself was still whole. And yet, so hollow. So empty.

_No, surely not. _

Emotions? There were none. What _were_ emotions, again? Feelings. Empathy. She used to so full of such things. Almost to the brim. Overfilling her, making her _ache. _

_Maybe it was just recently. I obviously have not been getting enough sun lately. Too much hiding. _

Wait, what was she hiding from again? The brunette blinked, recalling distant memories. A flicker of recognition flashed across her features. Hiding? Yes...hiding. She had been hiding. For a long while. Hiding, and _running. _From what, though? She shook her head. The more she attempted to remember, the further the memories frisked away as if on a gust of wind.

_No of course not. I've always been pale. Of course._

The young woman looked up from her hands. They was _so _white. So pale. She flexed them, counting each digit as she did so. But she couldn't feel it. She _knew _she should have been able to feel it, even if it was a small bend. But still, there was nothing. She felt in her mind that she should be worried, and her breath hitched. But not a moment later, a calm came over her. The memories of _touch _vanished as soon as she recalled them. And again, she was sitting, staring. Staring at her pale, _pale, _hands.

"Such a shame, child."

She felt, _deep _inside of her, that she should have jumped. Flinched, _something. _But her head slowly turned towards the voice. There was a person, a man, sitting on the ground beside her. Her eyes glazed over as she took him in. Calm. So very very calm. His clothes were gray. And he wore no shoes.

_No shoes. How odd._

She swept her gaze across his being. The pants were slacks, and the shirt was buttoned all to the top except the very last one. And when her eyes finally rested on his face…

She blinked. Shook her head, and tried again. Her gaze was blurry. She could not _see. _On the inside, her chest clenched in fear. Who was this man. She should be alone, who _was he? _But as soon as her panic began to spread to her fingers and toes, the man took a deep rumbling breath.

And then she was calm.

Her eyes travelled back to her hands. So very _pale. _It seemed to be her only anchor to where she sat. The only thing her mind could stick to. Her eyes flicked to the man beside her as he leaned in close and reached for her hands. She did nothing, said nothing, as he took them in her own. He caressed them as a father might to his worried child.

"Hermione, can you see?"

Her eyes snapped open wide. _Hermione. _That was her, wasn't it? Yes, yes of course it was. How did she ever _forget? _How could she. She turned to the man, but avoided his face. She couldn't look at it. She didn't want to forget again, she _couldn't. _Her mouth opened, and she tried to speak. But her voice locked in her throat. What could she say to this man? Why couldn't she say it?

"Ah, I see that you do. Hermione, I need you to look around you. Take a deep breath, and gaze into the truth." He held her hands tightly, and he leaned further in. If she could focus at his eyes, she would know that he was giving her a steady gaze. A strong look of determination. An endearing honesty to _help _her.

So she did as he asked.

And her soul nearly shattered for a second time.

Before her, on the muddy grass, was _herself. _She started hyperventilating. The feelings, they were coming back. So strong, so many. She could not handle them at once, and yet they did not care. The dam that held them back came crashing down and she let out a strangled sob. Ripping her pale, _pale, _hands from the mans', she fell forward as she crawled closer to her own body.

_Dead. I am dead. _

One quick look told her all she needed to know. She simply looked like she was sleeping. Eyes closed softly, lips parted _ever so much. _Her legs looked as if they had buckled underneath her. As if she had simply fallen asleep whilst standing. She knew that was not true. She had been hit with a deadly, very much _unforgiving _curse.

_Avada Kedavra._

Shaking her head, and biting her bottom lip _hard _to silence her wails, she stumbled to her feet. She needed to see. To see clearly. It felt like years, like a _millennia _since she had seen. Truly, correctly _seen. _

"You see now, Hermione. A lot of things had transpired. A many great, terrible things."

She had forgotten that the man was here. She looked to where he had been sitting beside her, and he was now standing. Hands in his pockets, posture simple _perfect. _He was regal. He held himself as such. But when she tried once again to gaze upon his face, she felt her eyes blurring. She felt things slipping from her mind as if hands reached in and _ripped them from her. _She tore her gaze away, gasping. No, she needed to be clear. Crystal clear.

She finally decided to look away from her own body, and take in everything. Having already broken, everything else she saw was no longer as shocking.

_Harry Potter is dead. _

His body lay sprawled a few feet away. A large gash had opened his chest. Dried, sticky blood glued him to the grass. But his face appeared serene. Like he had finally found his peace. His solitude away from the fans and the ones who expected _so much _from him. Here, on the ground, he was no longer "The-Boy-Who-Lived". He was just a sad, lonely boy at the end result of a ridiculous war. She swallowed her pain and turned her head away.

_Ron Weasley is dead. _

Her close, close friend. Her first kiss. The boy she helped finish his homework time and time again. Laughed, and joked, and held so very close. He was on his stomach, gripping his wand a tight as he would have in life. No physical injuries. Just another unforgivable curse laying waste to his solemn life. His family, if they were still alive, we be so sad. So very miserable.

She looked back at the man, resting her gaze on his shoulder so that her mind not be ripped apart again. And then she opened her mouth.

"There is nothing I can do...is there?"

The man shook his head and sighed. "Unfortunately, not. Not here at least. I don't delve in matters of the living. The only thing I can say is that this war of yours has made me very busy. It is rather getting tiring." He leaned down and reached as if he were going to touch her body. Her face. But stopped abruptly. He straightened, and turned to her once again. "I am simply here to guide you to your next life."

She blinked. "Next...life? Are you the grim reaper…?" He shook his head and chuckled.

"I am not here to _reap your soul_, as you humans call it. But another child is being born soon, and it needs a soul to home inside of it. I believe your kind call it 'reincarnation'. A family in India is where you will be sent this time."

_This time…_

"Will I remember?"

"No, and you never will."

"I see…"

She looked down at her hands and clasped them together. Her memories, her life. Gone, forever. Her mother and her father. Her schooling. Her teachers, her friends. Her experiences. All that _fighting. _Gone.

"Although…"

She snapped her eyes open again and looked at him with worry in them.

"I could give you another option."

"And what is that?"

He looked into the battlefield. There were more than just 3 bodies. The dead were laying in silence. Death eaters, and fighters of the light combined.

"Instead of sending you forward. I could send you back. And as a gift, I'll let you keep _yourself._" He shuffled and looked at the ground. She narrowed her eyes. "And how would this benefit you?" She huffed quite suddenly. She was wary, was remembering the feeling of cautiousness.

"Like I said, this silly war of yours has been _tiring._"

"I thought you said you don't meddle in lives of the living."

"I don't." He said with a smirk in his voice. "You aren't living. Hermione Granger lies in a puddle on the ground before us. You are no longer that girl. You could be much, _much _more." He chuckled softly to himself.

"Where would you send me? Who would I be?" She asked him. He sighed, stretching his arms to the sky before resting them onto the back of his head. "I cannot tell you that. You will have to figure it out yourself."

She blinked. And then looked away, biting her lip. Perhaps, if she was sent _back, _she could change things. Make things better. Make everything better. But she didn't know how far it would go. Although, this option was far better than being sent somewhere in India without her memories. She nodded to herself, making her decision. She turned to him.

"Ok. Send me back."

She could feel him smiling as he turned towards her. "It was an honor to meet you, Ms. Granger." He bowed. She blinked, and then suddenly. there was darkness.

She suddenly felt very _very _claustrophobic. She opened her eyes, and everything she saw was a vague pinkish light. Within moments, she felt air rush into her lungs.

And then she _wailed. _

"Congratulations, it's a girl my lady." The doctor handed the wrapped babe to the woman. She smiled up at her husband. "Licorus, she's beautiful."

He smiled. "Of course she is, Magenta. Our little Hermione. Hermione Magenta Black."

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**Thank you for reading! And please, leave a comment if you want any more. I love to write and hope this spurt stays with me.**


	2. Chapter 2: Quite a Shock

**Hello everyone! Second chapter is finished. I don't have an editor, so I'm sorry if I've missed anything. Also, I'm discovering the magic of google drive! Who needs office anymore? xD**

**And again, I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.**

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_August 29th, 1940_

"Hermione, be a dear and grab my coat." The black haired woman called into the halls. It wasn't long before she heard a polite call back from her daughter, "Yes mother." She swept her gaze towards the voice and watched the small child walk into the room. Her long black hair was in well kept waves, which was quite a feat the woman had to work on for years after her daughter was born. The girl had the signature dark eyes and deep brown hair. And in the mornings, such hair was wild and unruly. But Magenta had taken time to groom it to was easy to handle for the years to come.

She smiled in pride. Her daughter, along with her sister Misapinoa, was the pride of the family. Born only 10 months apart, they almost looked to be twins. But in personality, they were quite different. Misapinoa was very much prideful, almost to the point of snobbish, of her "pure" lineage. Her personally matched the Black family crest, _Toujours Pur, _to a T. It meant 'Always Pure', and she took that to heart.

Hermione on the other hand, was quiet and studious. All her personal tutors praised her for quickly catching on to any puzzle or problem. She did not share her sisters blood pride, but still held herself with a certain regality. Hermione had always held herself as if she were much older than she really was. Of course, her mother and father only took that as her having reached maturity early on.

"We must hurry if we are to make it to the train on time, dear." Hermione nodded in confirmation, and handed her mother the large fur coat. The woman pressed her hand lightly to her daughter's back as they began to head out the front door to the apparation point just outside the gates of their house. Hermione looked back and saw her sister leaning over a corner. She bit her lip, seeing the malice in her sisters' eyes. They were less than a year apart, but because of that difference they were being sent to Hogwarts in different years. Hermione and Misapinoa had grown up quite close with each other, but this little fact had started to drive a wedge between them the moment Hermione got her letter.

Sighing, she tore her gaze from her begrudging sister and stepped outside of the house, letting the door close behind her. She walked up to her mother and took the awaiting hand, already grinding her teeth as she waited for the squeezing feeling of apparating to King's Cross. It happened quickly, and she stumbled a bit afterwards, catching a hitch in her breath. Even after all this time, she still hated the feeling. But she would have to deal, since her mother did not give her enough time to grab her bearings.

"I made sure that your things were already brought onto the train, dear. They're on the third car from the back, alright?" Hermione nodded as they came up to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. She was hit with a sudden feeling of nostalgia, but choked it down. To her mother, this was her first time here. She could to show any signs of recognition towards the stone wall. This was going to be difficult, to act as if everything was new.

It hurt. It had been 11 years since she had died. But even as a child, as a baby, she had remembered it all. Everything. As she was swaddled as a babe, taking tutoring lessons at the age of 5, and up until this very day. She recalled everything, and it still felt just as fresh in her heart. But now, she had an idea of where she was.

Of who she was going to _meet_ in that school.

A couple of years after she had been..._reborn, _she had finally managed to catch a glimpse of the date on a wizarding newspaper her father had walked by with.

It had been _1931\. _Which means she had been born in 1929.

Almost 70 years in the past. She spent a short while thinking, what could be so important during this time? And now, it was 1940. And she was getting on the train to go back to Hogwarts.

_Again. _

She took a deep breath, reeling herself in, and smiled up at her 'mother'. Taking the woman's' hand, and bracing herself as she ran through the barrier. After a soft whooshing noise, she was met with the sounds of children excitedly climbing aboard the train. She felt a rush of eagerness, _remembering _this feeling. She knew it, it was familiar. Everything before this, being born into a pureblood family, learning their traditions, getting personal tutors, having a _sister_...was new to her. But she smiled for the first time, a real smile that graced the curve of her lips, at the sight. Her mother glanced down at her and simply took the wide grin as a girl excited to start school, and nodded to herself with assurance.

"You said the third car from the back, mother?" She asked. Her mother nodded. "Yes dear." Hermione let go of her mothers hand and gave the woman a quick hug. "I'm sure I can manage from here, mother. Thank you for bringing me. I'll write, I promise." The tall brunette woman smiled and nodded. "Of course. And remember to stay diligent in your studies. You'll have to forgive your sister, she is simply envious. She should be fine when she starts next year. Goodbye love." She gave her daughter one last hug, before leaving with a turn of her heel. Not looking back with the grace of a Black.

Hermione kept her eyes trained on her mother for a few moments, before turning and climbing aboard the train. It didn't take her long to find the cart, she knew this train like the back of her hand after all. Once she made herself comfortable, she leaned against the window and waited._This time_, she thought, _I won't be such an insufferable know-it-all. _She chuckled to herself, remembering how it was to make friends her first year in Hogwarts. No, this time she would hold herself with poise, but keep herself in the background. She'd had many years to ponder how she would place herself in the school. She could try to gain friends and popularity, as that would not be hard with her new pureblood status. But after careful consideration, she had decided that she would stay in the back of the stage, how she would put it. At least until she could grasp the situation at hand.

For several long minutes, she had been lost in her thoughts, but the sound of her cars door opening broke her out of her reverie. She shifted slightly, straightening her posture as she turned to look at whomever had torn her from her thoughts.

"I'm going to sit here."

She blinked at the statement. The boy that stood before her, he held himself straight. There was a slight nervous shake in his being, but she could tell that he was choking it down. He gave her a pointed look with very dark brown eyes, _daring _her to say otherwise. Hermione narrowed her eyes for a moment. Who _was _this boy to dare... What was she thinking? She caught herself thinking like a pureblood. She realized she had opened her mouth to retort, and closed it abruptly. She gave the boy a sharp nod, and tore her gaze from him, settling for the sight of the trains platform.

But she listened. She was nervous, feeling dread. She knew _no one. _She listened to him huff and drag in a small knapsack and stuff it overhead. She listened to him sit down and make himself comfortable. And then silence. She could literally _feel _his gaze on her, like a stifling blanket. But she refused to look back in his directions.

_Invisible, I need to be invisible. _

The whole ride to the school stayed as such. An uncomfortable silence. A battle of wills. She did not _know _this boy. She had seen a few of the other pureblood children; Maggie Prewett, Abraxas Malfoy, Sebastian Lestrange. But this one was _new._ But there were going to be very many new children that she have not heard of, or met yet. Especially muggle borns, or half bloods.

With his gaze boring a hole into the side of her face, _this was a different kind of new. _

Finally, she sighed and stood up. Her back was aching from sitting so still and she stretched. She glanced at the boy and thought he might look away in embarrassment. He did nothing of the sort, and she smirked. "You know staring is rude." She muttered as she turned to grab her robes. "It's time we got changed. We'll be in the village soon."

"How do you know?" He asked petulantly. "Because my mother told me." She threw some childishness in her voice. She had to act the part. She had to stay invisible. The boy huffed again, the second time in a few hours, and finally, _finally, _looked away. That had been _almost _unbearable. Almost. But she could handle it. She finally had the chance to look at him for a moment as he changed into his school robes. They were second-hand. The kind that only the school could afford for you. And his skin was almost translucent it was so pale. Maybe just some sunlight could fix it, but he appeared to only ever spend his days indoors.

As all the students climbed off the train, the groundskeeper of the school called all of the first years to gather around and start climbing into the boats. Ah yes, the first year of Hogwarts. She remembered it fondly, and then realized with a quiet chuckle that she never even had the chance to ride the boats back at the end of her second year. A year that never finished. Whilst sitting in the boat, she bit her bottom lip a little harder than one would to stave down a sudden rush of old emotions.

Fine, she would be fine.

Later on, she was ushered into the the great hall along with around 20 more new students. Such a large group of 11 year olds, more than when she had first gone to hogwarts. She waited patiently for her turn, and when her name was finally called she calmly strode towards the stool with the hat. She knew what house she would go into. It was obvious this time around. She was no longer brave and lion-like. _And I am no Hufflepuff_, she chuckled to herself. She sat down and the hat was placed upon her head.

_'Hmmmm...you feel very familiar, child.' _

_'Well that's impossible, as we've never met before.'_

_'Oh that's fine, I can read your ooold soul.' _Hermione took in a breath, worried. '_No matter, I can see that you have plans. Plans to make yourself great and to change the fate of many people for whatever you deem is good. And for that matter, you shall be...'_

_"_**SLYTHERIN!"**

She sighed in relief, and stood from the stool with a smile as she practically skipped to the cheering table covered in silver and green. She sat down, and soon after the red headed girl, Maggie Prewett joined her and they grinned at each other. Even though she tried to listen to all the names, she began to drown the out a bit in boredom. But then a name was called, and she realized, _finally _why that faceless man sent her here. She looked up, and saw the boy that had shared her car on the train, and the color drained from her face.

**"**Tom Marvolo Riddle." Called Albus Dumbledore, the schools transfigurations teacher. The kid, small, pale, thin but still with some baby fat on his cheeks clambered onto the stool with as much as he could graced. The hat had been placed on his head and not 2 seconds later it called out her same house. The boy caught her eye as he walked over.

_Tom...Riddle..._

And he smirked.

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**Thank you again for reading, please leave a review if you enjoyed! Or you can leave a review if you did not. Either way, yay reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Staring

**HI guys! So sorry for the wait! I just finished a loooong 6 day week at work and I am exhausted. But I've been working on this chapter suuuper slowly between all of my breaks and such. Google Drive is amazing! Anyways, please enjoy chapter 3!**

**I do not own anything related to the Harry Potter franchise.**

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_September 25th, 1938_

Over the course of the next few weeks, Hermione kept to herself. The shock, and dread, of hearing Tom Riddles' name had sunk deeply in her chest. It never left her, it clambered on her shoulders and gripped it's claws into her flesh. She hadn't slept well, knowing that the Dark Lord was slumbering across the hall in the Slytherin dormitories. With the fact that she was trying to appear not as bright as she actually was, the students around her simply ignored her. At first, many tried to befriend her. She was a Black after all, and she had many cousins in the school. But taking in her slightly sunken eyes and morose way she spoke, eventually she seemed to fade away.

And for now, that was just fine.

But those _damned _piercing eyes. She felt them everywhere, and it was driving her crazy. In potions, Tom had taken it upon himself to be her partner. Every day. Maybe she looked lonely, but then why would such a boy even care about her looking _lonely_? No, it had to be something else. Hermione, over the course of the first month of school, grew incredibly paranoid. What even unnerved her more, was that he hardly even _spoke _to her. And it wasn't like she was the most conversational person either, but still. She knew he was up to something, she simply knew it. But what was she to do?

_Invisible. Pale, and unseen. Don't let him see me, don't let him see._

When Tom's name had been called in the hall on that first night, almost no one from her house cheered. At first she was perplexed. They had cheered for _her. _But not him. It had taken her a short while to realize why. Riddle was _not _a pureblood name. All of the pureblood children knew, immediately, that Tom Riddle was not..._one of them, _in a way.

And for those first few weeks, Tom Riddle had been an outcast.

The teachers loved him though. He was very bright for his age. _As am I..._Hermione seethed to herself. But she knew it would not be wise to show her true colors when she hadn't had a grasp on the situation. So far, she had only found that there were a few constants in this old and yet new world.

One, the pureblood families had an even stronger hold on the wizarding world than they did in her time.

Two, Tom Riddle wouldn't stop _fucking _staring her.

Finally, she had snapped. She had been sitting in the Slytherin common room close to midnight, nose buried in a book. A book she had read before, since she had already almost fully devoured the school library when she had first gone to school. She barely noticed someone meandering into the room and purposely sat down on one of the plush chairs across from her. And then she felt it again.

_The staring. _

She tried to ignore it, but the amount of energy she put into it caused her to read the same sentence at least four times before she caught herself. Finally, she huffed and threw the book haphazardly onto the couch, before flinging her gaze angrily at her assailant.

"What!? What do you want, Mr. Riddle? Please, do tell, for I am _ever _so _curious _as to what you find so _fascinating _about me." She practically shouted. A sleek eyebrow rose slowly as he glowered at her with piercing dark eyes.

"Nothing, Miss Black. There is absolutely nothing fascinating about you. In fact," He sneered, lazily turning his gaze away from her towards the fire. "You are actually rather dull. You are most likely the most _boring _pureblood child I have encountered thus far." Hermione's cheeks flushed as she bristled. But beyond her sudden flash of rage, she was confused. Since coming to this school, Tom Riddle had been nothing but cordial to all the students and staff of the school. Slowly gaining the respect of his peers and his teachers, he was the perfect image of a prodigy child. So then why the sudden show of rudeness?

"Then why-" But he interrupted her. "You're not normal." He said simply, turning his gaze back onto her. His eyes bore into hers, and for a moment she felt panicked. There was no way he had found out. That was simply impossible. _How _could he have? She sat silently, looking down at her hands worriedly, her teeth grazing against her bottom lip. "All these other _children_," He spat, "Are all looking for possible ways to use each other. But you're weird. You just sit there like a hermit. Dipping your nose into books like your life depends on it. You're _odd._" He snarled, standing up and walking out of the room in a huff.

She blinked, staring after him. He was so small, a skinny child. And yet he gave a presence of dominance and confidence. He _reeked _of it. And she feared it. But now the common room was empty. The fire crackled warmly in the background, and while she still had her hand resting on the spine of her book, she couldn't bring herself to pick up where she had left off. Her mind was racing. Was her trying to hide standing out so much? She slowly started to panic, if the other children had also noticed. Biting her lip worriedly, she slowly stood up.

She needed to rethink her strategy. She needed to change her tactic, but it was simply a matter of _how. _

Hermione stood up from her seat, her hand shaking as she picked up her book, and dragged her feet to the girls dormitories.

She hardly slept that night.

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_September 26th, 1938_

The next day, Hermione lugged herself into the Great Hall for some breakfast before her day. She took a seat, feeling heavy with her lack of sleep, and reached for a slice of toast. It was all she could muster these days without feeling ill. Spreading some jam onto the piece, she bit into it and smiled. Strawberry, her favorite. Savoring the taste of the preservative, she had managed to ignore the world around her until she felt a nudge in her side as someone sat down. She widened her eyes and looked over.

"Hello." Said the blonde girl. Hermione blinked, she recognized this girl. She was a first year like Hermione, but they had never spoken before. If this had been in her time, then she would have shared a room with the girl, but this year there were more than six girls sorted into Slytherin, and that called for an extra room. "Uh, hello. I'm sorry, I think I've forgotten your name…" She said uneasingly, hoping the girl would not be angry. Instead she flashed Hermione and wide smile.

"Charlotte. Charlotte Villanueax. We were sorted this year together, remember?" Hermione swallowed her toast and set it down, turning her body a bit towards the newcomer. She nodded, offering the girl a smile back. "How could I possibly have forgotten. Your father works for the Ministry, right? In the department of security? My mother spoke fondly of him a few times." Her upbringing had also consisted of attempting to know _everyone_, but she apparently had failed. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep getting to her. Charlotte nodded, obviously proud of her fathers' work. "Yes, I do not see him often, but he does good work." Hermione smiled a little wider.

She had quickly learned that not _everyone _in Slytherin was a "bad guy". In fact, almost none of them were. But that might be because the "Dark Lord" had not risen yet. Right now, they were simply children of important ministry figures with a penchant for blood purity and some snootiness. But Charlotte seemed a little different. In any case though, Hermione knew to be wary. Most of these children were instructed to make friends not to have _friends, _but to make future connections. And the Black family was a very prominent one in this time.

"Well Charlotte, while it was lovely to make your acquaintance...again…" Hermione blushed slightly in embarrassment. "But is there anything I can help you with?" She inquired. She felt suddenly ashamed when the girls' smile faltered for a moment, seemingly in disappointment. But then Charlotte brought it back in full force. It appeared kind, and kindness was something that Hermione truly longed for right now. "Hermione, um…" She hesitated. "Maggie and I have been worried about you." Hermione blinked and then frowned. "I don't know what you and the other girls have been thinking, but I am perfectly cap-"

"No no! It's not like that Hermione. I'm sorry, I don't mean to seem uncivil. I simply mean...Um, would you like some company in the library after classes today? I noticed that you rather seem as peace there, maybe we could study together? I know that Maggie would love to join." The blonde turned towards the curly red-headed girl down the table and caught her eye. Maggie perked and and waved excitedly. Hermione looked between the two girls nervously, worrying at her lip with her teeth.

_Maybe this is how I can change my tactic…_ She suddenly thought. And a moment of silence, of Charlotte looking at her expectantly with a hopeful grin, Hermione nodded. Charlotte looked like she was going to squeal, but she held it in like a proper lady. She turned towards Maggie and waved her over. The red head quickly grabbed her plate and her bag, and sat across the table from Hermione. She looked up and Hermione noticed some very striking features. Pale face, freckles, and a long nose. Just like Molly Weasley.

Just like Ron Weasley.

Hermione gulped down her sudden bout of depression and flash the two girls a small smile. "Well, I could help with your homework as well. I have a quite a skill at essays, I've been told." And soon she was lost in gentle conversation with the pair for the rest of breakfast. They even managed to get her to eat some scrambled eggs before they all stood up and left for their first class.

Little did she know, Tom Riddle was glowering at her retreating back with suspicion thick in his gaze.

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